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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051958">Shattered Canvas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrzA/pseuds/CrzA'>CrzA</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Persona 5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anger, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Bruises, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Self-Doubt, Self-Indulgent, Whump, mention of drugging</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:07:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrzA/pseuds/CrzA</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It all starts when the news hit the media. The leader of the Phantom Thieves: dead at last.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shattered Canvas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH OKAY so I just wrote some very self-indulgent Shukita hurt/comfort to get myself out of my writing slump and idk this was fun to write so I hope at least someone will enjoy reading it TT^TT</p><p>Thank you Telling for being a supportive and encouraging bean and <i>telling</i> me to post this (yes, the pun was totally intended)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It all starts when the news hit the media. The leader of the Phantom Thieves: dead at last. Defeated by the weight of his own sins, the humiliation of his own capture. A gun to his head and <em>bam</em>; gone from this life.</p><p><em>As expected of our leader,</em> Yusuke’s thoughts echo within his mind the moment he hears the announcement, ringing with the unwavering faith he has in Akira, his wit, his expertise. It was thanks to him that he escaped a fate far worse than he could possibly imagine, so how could he ever doubt his ability to pull through in the face of adversity yet again? It would be plain disrespectful, would it not?</p><p>Though perhaps the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of stomach stemmed not from a lack of faith in their leader’s ability, but the worry of a lovesick fool. Is it any less unsightly, however? Surely, if anything had happened, if the plan had gone awry, Futaba would have found a way to warn them as inconspicuously as possible. Still, a little voice in the back of Yusuke’s head kept nagging him to see for himself, if only to satisfy the desire to lay eyes upon the smirking face of his cherished partner. How pathetic of him, weak to the whims of his heart, jeopardising all that they worked towards for no other reason than satisfying his petty wants.</p><p>But then again, he used to go to Leblanc fairly regularly. It would almost be more suspicious if he were to suddenly avoid it altogether. Plus, there is nothing like a warm cup of coffee to settle his spirits as he ponders his next piece, regardless of the situation at hand. Such are the excuses he entertains as he steps through the door once and for all, chewing on the inside of his cheek and ignoring both the guilt and concern gnawing at him.</p><p>The moment he is inside, Sojiro’s gaze flickers towards him, and his grip falters on the cup he’d been drying. Yusuke wonders if the sight of him is that unsettling, clearing his throat and casually running his clammy palms over the front of his uniform’s shirt. Nothing seems to be wrong with his outfit. Perhaps his expression gives something away that it shouldn’t.</p><p>“You’re here.” Sojiro murmurs eventually, sweeping the otherwise empty café with his tired eyes, as if trying to ascertain they are really alone. “Akira’s not here, you know? He’s visiting his family.”</p><p>That was the story they fed those who actually cared to ask of his whereabouts, at least.</p><p>“I am aware.” Yusuke replies, and he is surprised to find that his voice sounds rather strangled. Since when had he become so weak? Would Akira be ashamed of him, his waning resolve? “I am here seeking inspiration from the Sayuri, and the peaceful aroma of roasted coffee beans.”</p><p>Sojiro hums, promptly getting to work as Yusuke finds a seat on the counter, his shoulders stiff in a way that is much too telling for a keen observer. He can’t really talk, though. He feels just as tense, just as choked. It has become progressively harder to breathe the closer he got to his destination, knowing he is not yet at his goal.</p><p>Ah, what is he doing, really? He shouldn’t be here. Akira is surely shaking his head at him now, rolling his eyes at his foolishness from whatever dark corner he has hidden himself in, watching the world go on without him, playing right into his hands where he can puppeteer his enemies with the strings of fate. The leader of the Phantom Thieves is not to be trifled with, a force to be reckoned, and yet, here Yusuke sits, filled with an irrational worry that makes him blind to the dangers of indulging it.</p><p>Times like these he wonders why Akira even keeps him around. The others haven’t strayed from their path, they haven’t acted out of their usual routine for the sake of confirmation of something they were all aware of. Despite what the public thinks, Akira did not die.</p><p>Did he?</p><p>Yusuke’s grip tightens around the coffee cup Sojiro has placed in front of him. He clenches his jaw and breathes in deeply through his nose. <em>Your faith should be stronger than this. It used to be, so why now?</em></p><p>Because deep down something feels off. Not having Akira by his side, when he has grown so used to his presence. It’s woefully unsettling. And yet, it’s not just that either.</p><p>The door to the café swings open, a gust of wind sneaking in along with the sudden movement, and Yusuke feels a cold shiver run down his spine when he instinctively turns his head to the new arrival.</p><p>“Sojiro you have to come home. Joker’s—”</p><p>Futaba cuts herself off with a gasp, her eyes widening slightly when they meet Yusuke’s. The dark circles under her eyes are not necessarily strange, but they seem more prominent than usual, as if one simple factor has made it so her normal routine became just skewed enough to cause a noticeable change. Perhaps in the same sense that Yusuke’s stomach feels emptier without Akira feeding him.</p><p>“Inari, what are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here.” She whispers, head lowering slightly and hands balling to fists at her side, her lower lip trapped between her teeth.</p><p>On instinct alone, Yusuke springs to his feet, a breath hissing past his parted lips. The cup knocks aside, black coffee staining across the counter, and Sojiro curses under his breath, picking up a rag from between the clean cups and soaking up the mess Yusuke inadvertently made. He would have apologised, but his mind has grown blank but for a noise of alarm as he takes in Futaba’s posture. Her aura radiates a negative emotion; not defeat but more so frustration of some kind, an anger that sprouts from an inability to do something. Yusuke knows the feeling too intimately not to recognise it, his heart dropping to his feet as he wonders what it means, dreads that the possibility of his traitorous doubts may have been true.</p><p>“Akira—” He slaps his hand over his own mouth, stopping himself short of saying something he shouldn’t. “Well, I <em>am</em> here.” He says instead, hoping it conveys the meaning he intends.</p><p>Futaba throws a glare over Yusuke’s shoulder, less menacing than it might be searching.</p><p>“I’m busy with the café.” Sojiro replies to her unvoiced question, grunting as he keeps wiping the sullied counter. “Since Yusuke’s here, he can help you with whatever you need.”</p><p>With a trembling breath, Yusuke turns to the older man, giving him a grateful nod. “But of course,” he returns his gaze to the girl, “whatever you need.”</p><p>Futaba clicks her tongue, averting both their gazes and twisting on her heel. “Fine. Come quick then. It can’t wait.”</p><p>The missing bite from her words is probably what throws Yusuke off the most. When usually she is quick to jab at any one of his many quirks, Yusuke almost expected her to berate him for being so obviously distraught when everything is going exactly according to plan. But it’s almost as if she has been robbed of her regular mischievous nature. Quite ironic for a thief, of all things.</p><p>As they walk the short distance from Leblanc to the Sakura household, Yusuke can only follow quietly behind Futaba, focusing on the slump of her shoulders as she shoves her hands in her short’s pockets. She stops by the front door without warning, causing Yusuke to nearly walk right into her in his haste to reach their destination, to finally see Akira for the first time since he was taken in by the police. Before that, even—the Phantom Thieves were gone before they laid a single hand on their leader.</p><p>He backs away a few steps, running a hand through his hair and realising he seems to be shaking. Excusing himself with the cold, Yusuke hides his hands underneath his armpits, cursing his body for betraying his innermost demons as they plague him so. Futaba looks at him from the corner of her eye, her jaw tensed as she seems to hesitate one moment longer.</p><p>“You shouldn’t have come here, Inari.” She reinforces her earlier statement, her gaze falling down to her feet anew.</p><p>“Is Akira…” Yusuke can’t bring himself to say anything further, unsure of what he even wants to ask, afraid of what the answer might be whatever the question.</p><p>“Joker’s… Everything went according to plan.” Futaba settles, cryptic, and Yusuke’s brow furrows in a mix of concern and confusion.</p><p>“Then, what—”</p><p>“He’s not okay though.” She cuts in, and Yusuke snaps his mouth shut with an audible click, his vision filling with spots for a beat before he forces himself to take a deep breath.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>“He will be! He didn’t hit a Game Over or anything!” Futaba quickly assures him, turning around to face him, placing her hands on his chest when she notices he is ready to push past her and burst into the house uninvited. “Joker didn’t… want you to come here…”</p><p>“What?” Yusuke gasps, feeling a sharp pain stab right through his chest at her words. “Did I do something that I shouldn’t have? Did I anger him somehow?”</p><p>“Not just you, stupid Inari. He didn’t want anyone else seeing him like this.”</p><p>“Like this?” Yusuke parrots, bringing a hand over to his lips and leaning onto the outer wall with the other for support, a wave of nausea making his knees a little weak. “What do you mean?”</p><p>His mind reels, filling with countless scenarios, each more horrifying than the last. Perhaps it is due to his artistic background, his need for visualisation of a mental image in order to translate it faithfully to the canvas, but the pools of scarlet red spreading around a head of raven locks like a grotesque halo that pops behind his lids feels so real he almost doubles over to retch. In a twisted sort of way, it’s a beautiful image, in a sense that, much like a human’s warped desires, it shows the depraved splendour of something utterly inevitable. Maybe he should paint it, someday, when the very thought doesn’t drive him near to tears, doesn’t make the world spin around him faster than it should, take the ground right from underneath his feet.</p><p>With a laboured sigh, Futaba seems to give up on words altogether. Yusuke supposes they aren’t really her strong suit to begin with. He can relate to that. Tentatively, she reaches for his hand, dragging him through the threshold and the narrow hallway to what seems to be used mostly as a storage room, some boxes shoved to the sides to make space for the futon laid out in the centre. It’s dark, the blinds on the only window drawn to keep away the afternoon sun, but Yusuke can make out the vague shape of a person lying on their back underneath the covers, dishevelled hair poking out at the top and spread over the small pillow. Next to it, a cat lays curled into a roll of dark fur, almost blending flawlessly with the shaggy curls if it weren’t for how Morgana lifts his head at the sound of their arrival.</p><p>“Futaba-chan, did you get Boss? Eh—Yusuke?” Suddenly, Morgana shifts to a defensive position, standing in between him and Akira in a way that seems protective, and Yusuke can’t help but feel hurt that he would feel the need to do that. “What’s he doing here?”</p><p>“Inari was at Leblanc. Sojiro told me to bring him instead.”</p><p>“I don’t want to question Boss’ decision but is that… a good idea?” Morgana asks, the doubt in his voice only making Yusuke feel even worse.</p><p>Despite that, he sits down a little to the side, clearing Yusuke’s line of sight to Akira’s sleeping face. The first thing he notices is the swelling. Despite the dim lighting, it’s hard to miss the way one of his eyes closes strangely, the split lip blown to nearly twice its usual size. And when his eyes begin to adjust even further to the relative darkness, he notices the bruises flowering all over his face, dark on his pale skin, and for what feels like a small eternity, Yusuke can’t breathe.</p><p>Even if he had been struggling with his worry, there was still a part of Yusuke that held on to the image of their dependable leader, that imagined him smirking smugly as he watched the scene they expected to play out unfold before him. In that moment, the picture shatters into a million shards, like a screen that showed a perfected version of the truth smashed to reveal the harsh reality from where it was born.</p><p>Akira is strong and reliable, he made it through whatever hardships he faced, like always. But looking at him now, Yusuke can see nothing more than a hurt, vulnerable teenager, abused by people whose job, by all accounts, was to protect people like him.</p><p>Slowly, Yusuke drags his feet closer, his gaze scanning down Akira’s covered body and wondering… if the police were this rough with him that they left visible marks on his face, then what the hell else did they do to him?</p><p>They never planned to release him.</p><p>They never planned to give him a fair chance to defend himself.</p><p>Akira walked into that interrogation room already a dead man. Why would anyone care to be gentle with him when there would be nothing to answer for?</p><p>The taste of iron floods Yusuke’s tongue and he realises how hard he is biting his cheek, how tense he is, ready to snap at any moment, his vision red with fury as he starts picturing faceless men laying their filthy hands on Akira. He crashes to his knees beside the futon, entire body shaking with a rage threatening to consume him as he carefully lays a hand over Akira’s chest, feeling it rise and fall with his shallow breaths.</p><p>“Who did this?” Yusuke all but growls through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to hit something, some<em>one</em>.</p><p>“Inari…” Futaba chokes, tugging on the end of one of her sleeves.</p><p>His head snaps towards her, his eyes burning with the ire-filled tears that threaten to escape their confines. “Who did this? I want them to pay.”</p><p>“Oi!” Morgana hisses, his tone a warning, but Futaba shakes her head, replying anyway.</p><p>“He wouldn’t say. Joker was pretty out of it when he got here anyway.” She mumbles, cowering slightly under the intensity of his gaze. “His fever is getting worse and I didn’t know what to do. Can’t you do something?” Futaba seems to beg, her voice quivering, and Yusuke’s anger wanes in light of her fear and apprehension when faced with his unwarranted aggression.</p><p>Deflating, Yusuke lets out a huffed breath, muttering a quiet apology and turning back to Akira’s sleeping form, taking in the tell-tale flush to his bruised cheeks. Morgana backs away again, moving to sit beside Yusuke now and pointing to Akira with his head.</p><p>“He just didn’t want anyone to worry about him. You especially.”</p><p>“Everyone was counting on Joker to get it done, and he did.” Futaba adds, holding her elbow as she appears to fight back tears, if the sheen to her eyes is anything to go by. “They drugged him, Inari. You think I didn’t want those jerks to pay too? He’s like a brother to me!”</p><p>“My apologies… I just… It did not even cross my mind that they could have gone this far. I feel like a fool.”</p><p>“None of us really considered it, I think.” Morgana admits, the shame obvious in his voice.</p><p>“Akira still would have gone through with it. He might have known all along.”</p><p>“That’s Joker for you.” Futaba sniffles. “He isn’t our leader for nothing.”</p><p>“However, he is not invincible nor invulnerable.” Yusuke says after a moment of heavy silence, fleetingly wondering if Akira was afraid back there, all alone and with no real means to defend himself.</p><p>As if to prove his point, soft groans draw his attention back to Akira’s face, his expression twisting with discomfort as he begins to shift in his sleep. Without skipping a beat, Yusuke takes a hand to his forehead, careful not to press on any bruises and add to his agony. The fact that it proves hard to find somewhere to touch him where it might not be tender only aggravates his irritation, but Yusuke swallows it down and merely lays his palm over Akira’s clammy forehead as gently as he can, brushing his hair away enough to allow it.</p><p>He’s warm, and not in the way Yusuke enjoys when they embrace, the heat of his presence enveloping him like a blanket of safety and comfort. This feels impure in comparison, which makes sense, given the circumstances, yet Yusuke still hates that it does.</p><p>“Could you fetch me a towel and some cool water, please?”</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Futaba nods, disappearing into the hall for a while before returning with a large bowl and a fluffy towel thrown over her shoulder, placing the items where Yusuke can reach then kneeling beside Morgana to pet him between the ears. Wordlessly, Yusuke soaks the towel, wringing it to get out the excess water and folding it as neatly as his quaking hands allow, doing his best to calm his still raging heart. Akira’s wellbeing matters much more than his thirst for justice he knows deep down he won’t be able to get.</p><p>Finding the names of whoever may have been involved would be near impossible and going into Mementos on his own to find them if by some miracle he could manage to do so would be plain suicidal. If he told the others, they might join him though.</p><p>But Akira wouldn’t want that, would he?</p><p>Once the towel is carefully placed over his forehead, secure enough that Yusuke is sure it won’t slip away should he thrash a little, he takes a moment to close his eyes and push away the images of Akira being kicked about like a lifeless doll. He tries to imagine his smile instead, the smile he means to protect. He still feels the wrath bubbling in his gut that sends bile rising up his throat, his fingers twitching with a need to connect his fists to the faces of the sorry excuses for human beings that dared do this to the person he loves, give them a taste of their own cruelty, but right now he needs to focus on Akira.</p><p>“Has he been eating? Drinking?”</p><p>“He hasn’t really been awake since he lied down.” Morgana informs, and Yusuke hums, dejected.</p><p>There isn’t really much he can do while Akira is unconscious but ensure his fever goes down, but he remains by his side anyway, sitting on his ankles in silence and soaking the towel with fresh water whenever his skin starts feeling too hot again once he checks his temperature. Little grunts and groans colour the otherwise quiet room, each one squeezing Yusuke’s heart painfully.</p><p>“Are you okay, Inari?” Futaba asks, twiddling her thumbs over her lap once he looks her way, nodding slowly.</p><p>“It is not me anyone should be worried for.”</p><p>“Yeah, but… I know how you feel.”</p><p>“There’s a reason he didn’t want anyone to know.” Morgana laments, lowering his head. “But even so, he—”</p><p>“Yu…” Akira’s voice cuts Morgana off, sounding almost as if it is clawing its way out of his throat from how scratchy it is, and all three of them stare down at him.</p><p>Yusuke almost expected to see him grinning deviously, ready to tease him about how cute he looks when he’s worried about him, but once again that picture is tainted by the pained lines of his expression, the cracks on his dry lips, the angry bruises that have not miraculously left his features when he wasn’t looking. His head tips towards them, another agonised moan tipping from his parted lips.</p><p>“Yusuke…”</p><p>“He’s been calling for you.” Morgana finally finishes, standing along with Futaba.</p><p>Yusuke looks at them as they walk away, pausing by the entrance with a silent nod before sliding the door closed.</p><p>“Yusu… ke…” Akira calls again, his expression looking almost desperate, and Yusuke instinctively sneaks his hand beneath the covers, reaching for his partner’s.</p><p>The skin around his wrists feels raw, and Yusuke feels the bitter taste of fury on his tongue once more, swallowing it down in lieu of lacing their fingers together, squeezing reassuringly.</p><p>“I’m here, Akira.”</p><p>Akira’s fingers twitch slightly, a low whine crawling from deep in his chest, and he almost appears to tug, as if trying to pull him in but too weak to do much more than just shift minutely, move his hand ever so slightly. Doing his best not to rouse him, Yusuke drags himself closer still, lifting the covers just enough to slide underneath them and lie on his side next to Akira. For what seems like the first time since he got here, Akira’s features soften, the tension seeps from his body, and he relaxes into the futon with a drawn-out breath.</p><p>A corner of his mouth quirks upward, paling in comparison to the smile Yusuke loves so, but looking so much more at home on his face than the anguished scowl from before. As he settles into a comfortable position, Yusuke takes his free hand to Akira’s marred cheek, brushing the back of his knuckles tenderly over the bruised skin. With what almost sounds like a contented sigh, Akira leans into the soft touch, his lids fluttering for only a few seconds. Though it is long enough for Yusuke to lock gazes with him, to look into his bleary eyes and find relief before he closes them once more, looking like he’s at peace, at least for the time being.</p><p>And for now, Yusuke thinks, it will have to do.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always, thank you so much for reading and feel free to leave any comments you may have! You can find me on tumblr <a href="https://crzangel.tumblr.com/">@crzangel</a> and on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/CrzAngel96">@CrzAngel96!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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